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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/25176688">You Are Cordially Invited</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Xenobotanist/pseuds/Xenobotanist'>Xenobotanist</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Garashir by Night [2]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Star Trek: Deep Space Nine</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Developing Friendships, Fluff without Plot, Friends to Lovers, M/M, Pre-Slash, Romantic Fluff, Tooth-Rotting Fluff</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-07-10</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-07-10</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-05 06:48:53</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>2,842</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/25176688</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Xenobotanist/pseuds/Xenobotanist</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Dr. Bashir receives a formal invitation to dinner with Garak. To his surprise, everyone has something to say about that.<br/>---<br/>Rated 'teen' because the horizontal hokey pokey is alluded to but not performed (not on-screen, anyway).</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Julian Bashir/Elim Garak</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Garashir by Night [2]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/1848898</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>19</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>143</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>You Are Cordially Invited</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>I was going for sharp and sexy but ended up with cute and sweet. Ah well.<br/>I may also have avoided most of my real-life responsibilities for the past two days to get this down.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Doctor Julian Bashir had just returned to the infirmary from a “house call” to Lieutenant Vilix’pran’s quarters. Yet another of his hatchlings had managed to get its wings tangled to such an extent that its baby sitter (one hyperventilating Jake Sisko) had been unable to restore them.</p><p>Upon his return, he discovered a medium-sized, forest green, rectangular box waiting on the console in his office. It had a matte satin finish, and was wrapped in a gold ribbon, with a fancy bow on top.</p><p>Intrigued, he sat down and removed the lid. Sheets of white tissue paper were tucked neatly over something large and soft, but resting atop them was a folded card.</p><p>The paper was pure black, thick and coarse, fibers visible around the edges. The gold filigree writing was engraved in large, flowing script.</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> You Are Cordially Invited </em>
</p><p> </p><p>He lifted the flap.</p><p>More gilt words.</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <em> Doctor Julian Subatoi Bashir </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Chief Medical Officer </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Deep Space Nine </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> The honor of your presence is hereby requested for a formal reception at 1900 hours this evening in the residential ring, level H-3, quarters 901.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Dinner will be preceded by cocktails and followed by a selection of diversions available for the guest’s pleasure.</em>
</p><p>
  <em> Please see the enclosed for additional information. </em>
</p><p> </p><p>He didn’t need to check the database; he knew whose room it was.</p><p>Garak’s.</p><p>Garak was inviting him to dinner? </p><p>He reread the card, his mouth going dry at the phrase “a selection of diversions available for the guest’s pleasure.” Did that mean what he thought it meant?</p><p>Only one way to find out.</p><p>He spread the wings of tissue paper apart to find a folded black garment beneath. Lifting it, he discovered a suit jacket, very similar to the one that completed his tuxedo. He had no doubt that this one was an even higher quality, and matched his precise measurements.</p><p>Next was a white dress shirt. Instead of the Terran button-up with a collar, this was an over the head variety, thicker and with an angular, dipping neckline. He had a feeling the cut was Cardassian.</p><p>Lastly was a pair of black trousers that matched the jacket. He held them up to admire the shape.</p><p>As the legs unfolded, something dropped to the ground. It was… well, there’s a reason they’re called “briefs.” The creamy swatch of fabric gleamed gold in places where light struck the folds at just a precise angle.</p><p>The doctor abruptly found himself as hard as duridium alloy and horny as a Vulcan crested toad. Or an Algorian pollen bunny. Depending on whether you were referring to his physical or chemical state. He stole a glance at his crotch.</p><p>Both. </p><p>Definitely both.</p><p>There was no question that he wanted to accept the proposition. He’d been waiting for it for years, to the point that he began to think that it would never come. And now that it had...</p><p>Panicked, he tapped his comm badge. “Bashir to sex. Er. Dax. Bashir to Dax.”</p><p>“Yes, Doctor?”</p><p>“I have an, erm, infirmary in the emergency. I mean, an emergency in the infirmary. A <em> science </em> emergency that I need your help with.” Unsure if she was alone or not, he added,  “Just you, no one else.”</p><p>“Doctor, is this an <em> official </em> request of the station’s Chief Science Officer? I’m in the middle of some very important data processing.”</p><p>Oh God. Did Jadzia think he had finally dredged up the nerve to make his move? And did she think so lowly of him as to expect him to proposition her from his office, across a monitored system? He must have made a complete arse of himself in the past.</p><p>“Um, not quite. I’m in need of… <em> advice. </em>Your unique perspective in regards to… uh… the interactions of two different species… that aren’t generally considered compatible… in a controlled and self-contained environment…” he gulped. “Um, please? At your earliest convenience? It’s, um, time-sensitive.”</p><p>The voice that responded switched from annoyance to amusement. “Give me 15 minutes, Doctor Bashir. Dax out.”</p><p>She arrived in 5.</p><p>“Hello? Julian?” a voice called from the outer room.</p><p>Jadzia peeped into his office, where he was still seated behind the desk. Wordlessly, he held out the invitation. She strolled in and took it from his hand, reading intently. She raised her eyebrows, peeking at him over the card. “901?”</p><p>“Garak’s.”</p><p>Her mouth made a little “O,” and her eyes lit up. “A <em> selection of diversions </em>?”</p><p>Sheepishly, he pinched the waistband of the drawers between his hands and held them up.</p><p>The card fluttered to the ground as her hand flew up to cover her mouth. She squeaked.</p><p>Jadzia was absolutely adorable when she squeaked. Julian realized with amazement that he now found her to be <em> cute </em> , but no longer <em> sexy. </em>Well. His tastes had matured. Or maybe he was even more of a xenophile than he’d originally thought. </p><p>The Trill retrieved the fallen invitation from the floor. “1900 hours? It’s already 1600. We’ll need to move quickly.” She nodded briskly. “You’re off for the day, effective now.” They both ignored the fact that she didn’t actually have the authority to call that. “Let’s head to Quark’s.” They departed with haste.</p><p>~~~~~</p><p>Observing her in action, he’d forgotten how intimidating Jadzia could be.</p><p>“Quark, if you don’t give me your <em> best </em> kanar, of the highest quality, not watered down, I will close down your bar due to a health code violation when your guests are overtaken by Klingon sand fleas. And that’s just what <em> I’ll </em> do. This is for Garak. Imagine what <em> he </em> could come up with.” </p><p>The Ferengi gulped. </p><p>But his innate business sense kicked in. He looked back and forth between the Hu-mon and Trill. “For Garak, eh? Would you like anything else to go with it? A holosuite rental for the evening? Some… Delavian chocolates?” He glanced at the box tucked under the doctor’s arm. “I also have more… <em> select </em> items for special occasions. Oils, lotions, jewelry, potions.” His eyes momentarily glazed over and he mumbled to himself. “Oooh, I should write that down.”</p><p>Jadzia snapped in front of his face. “No, just the kanar, please. <em> Now. </em>”</p><p>The bottle he returned with definitely <em> looked </em>special. It had the customary corkscrew glass design, but the stopper was an ornate multi-faceted crystal, and the thick beverage inside at first appeared black,but also gleamed with hints of purple and blue. Julian didn’t even haggle.</p><p>Their next stop was the <em> other </em> tailor shop found on the station. Jadzia expertly picked out socks and shoes to complete his outfit, handing him yet another box to carry. </p><p>By the time they picked up cologne at one of the stalls in the upper promenade, he was out of hands and out of breath. She moved <em> fast. </em>He was too busy juggling packages to even ask where they were headed next when he almost ran over Major Kira.</p><p>“Whoa! Where are you going? What’s with all this stuff?”</p><p>Jadzia smiled impishly. “Julian’s got a hot date tonight.”</p><p>Kira tilted her head. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen him put this much work into a <em> date </em>before. Must be someone special, huh?” She narrowed her eyes in thought. “There haven’t been any new arrivals, though, so…” She studied the rapidly blushing doctor in front of her. “Oh no. Don’t tell me.”</p><p>Jadzia clasped her hands together, bouncing on her toes. She nodded eagerly.</p><p>The Bajoran shook her head. “Well, it was bound to happen sooner or later.” She sighed. “Tell you what. Come on over to my quarters. I think I have something you can use.” She took off, waving for him to follow. </p><p>He glanced back to Jadzia, who gave him a double thumbs up. “I’ve got to get back to work. You have fun. Tell me all about it later!”</p><p>~~~~~</p><p>Julian had never seen the inside of the major’s quarters before. The ornate decorations reminded him of his aunt’s home, back on Earth. Kira was digging through a box that she’d pulled out from under her bed. She gave him a serious look. “If you tell anyone about this, I’ll deny it. And you’ll regret it.” Bashir wasn’t positive, but it seemed to be Cardassian jewelry. She sifted through, pulled out a little paint pot. “Cardassians have a… <em> thing... </em> for the color blue.” She set it on top of the shoe box. “I’ll let you decide what to do with that.” The pile wavered. “Aaaactually, let me get you something else.” She disappeared into her room, then emerged with a large canvas bag, adorned with something like a mandala across the fabric. Together, they transferred all the items in his arms to the sack.</p><p>“Thank you, Major, uh, Nerys.” Bashir didn’t know what to say. Help from the Bajoran was the last thing he would have expected. </p><p>&lt;Sisko to Bashir.&gt;</p><p>“Oh! Uh, yes, Captain?”</p><p>&lt;Please report to my office.&gt;</p><p>He glanced to the major for reassurance, but she shook her head nervously with a little shrug.</p><p>“Yes sir. Right away.”</p><p>~~~~~</p><p>Upon entering the office, the captain gestured for him to take a seat.</p><p>“I assume you know why I called you here?”</p><p>He knew better than to play dumb. “Because of my… plans tonight?” It had to have been Dax who told him.</p><p>“You’re a professional, Doctor, and a member of Starfleet. I’m sure I don’t have to remind you of the need for discretion when it comes to the dispersal of confidential information.” The tone of voice brooked no discussion. Julian gulped. “Who you spend time with outside of duty hours is your personal choice. But just… remember to exercise caution.”</p><p>He nodded. “Yes sir. Of course, sir.”</p><p>The captain picked up his baseball, giving it a small toss in the air. He twisted it in his fingers, then eyed the doctor. He seemed serious, but also a little… amused. “Seeing as you are something of a workaholic, and I’m your superior, I believe it is also my place to ensure that you have been maintaining all proper healthcare procedures and maintenance.”</p><p>Blimey. Was the captain really referring to the yearly STD vaccines required of all residents over the age of 14? </p><p>Actually, he decided that was a fair question. Garak definitely hadn’t been in to get his. At least through the official channels. Who knew what he’d been administering to himself.</p><p>“Yes… sir. I have stayed up to date on… everything.”</p><p>“Good, good. That’s all then. Dismissed.” But when Julian hoisted his bag and rose to leave, the Captain had one last thing to say. “And Doctor. You’re an intelligent and dedicated young man. Quite a catch. If Mr. Garak doesn’t show you the respect you deserve, you tell me. I can make his stay here… much less accommodating.” His teeth were showing, but one wouldn’t call it a grin.</p><p>Julian left, feeling equal parts embarrassed and oddly comforted. Like he’d just gotten “the talk” from his father. Actually, this one had gone much better.</p><p>Sneaking a glance at the chrono in the lift, he was shocked to see that it was already 1800. His long legs carried him at an accelerated pace back to his quarters, where he upended everything from the sack onto his bed before hastily jumping in the shower. Normally, he’d just run the sonic, but tonight he wanted to make his hair cooperate, and… to take care of certain details that he hadn’t given much thought to since his days in the Academy. So hot water it was.</p><p>After a quick dry, he decided to get dressed before doing his hair. The gold-dusted milky briefs were waiting for him. He slipped them on, appreciating the way they stretched snugly (but not over-tightly) over his intimate bits. A quick admiring glance in the mirror caught how they hugged his rear. His mouth grew a little dry again at the thought of them coming back off. And the method that might be employed in doing so…</p><p>But, oh boy, he better stop there, or he’d never get the trousers on. </p><p>Those, too, fit perfectly, accentuating his form while hiding the fact that his calves were much skinnier than he would have liked.</p><p>The dress shirt slipped comfortably over his head, and he was excited to find that while it was tighter than he normally wore, it seemed to be made of a cool, breathable fabric. He heaved a sigh of relief that he might not have to worry about pit stains beneath the tuxedo jacket. The collar dipped once, showing off his clavicles, and dipped again, just below the hollow between them. Cardassian fashion was surprisingly appropriate for human physiology.</p><p>A glance in the mirror informed him that there was one more thing to take care of. With the practiced application of brush, comb, and product, he tamed his hair into something more “polished and a tad sexy” rather than “just stuck a finger into an injector coil.”</p><p>There was a chime from the door just before he reached for his jacket. It was Miles, looking supremely uncomfortable. Julian stole another peek at the chrono. 1843. “Um, hey Chief. I’m about ready to head out the door. What can I do for you?”</p><p>Miles took a quick look up and down, taking in the fancy attire. “So Keiko was right.”</p><p><em> Really, Jadzia? </em> Julian was going to have to talk to her about her penchant--or maybe addiction--to gossip. He headed back to the bedroom. “Yes, Miles, I have a date tonight. With Garak.” He slid the jacket on. “It might be… kind of… an important one.” He returned to his friend, standing awkwardly in the living room. “And no, I don’t want to hear what you have to say about it. I’ve spent <em> years </em>in Garak’s company, and I know him better than anyone else on the station. I care about him, and I believe that he genuinely cares about me. And if you can’t accept that, then I’m sorry. But it’s my choice.” He put his hands on his hips. “Well? Say something.”</p><p>“You sound like Keiko.”</p><p>“Well, she’s a wise woman.”</p><p>“That’s why I married her.” The chief looked down, then back up, licking his lips nervously. “She already gave me the same talk. It’s why I’m so late to get down here.” He chuckled, and Julian let out a relieved huff. “She also told me that if you’re happy, then I should be happy for ya. So I am. Happy for ya.”</p><p>“Thank you Miles. I have a feeling tonight is going to be <em> amazing</em>. And on that note, I need to get going.”</p><p>Before he could turn to get the bottle of kanar, Miles stopped him. “Wait, wait, let me fix your jacket. It’s crooked.” He shifted the collar and lapels, settling it so that everything sat evenly on each side of the neck. “There.” He looked closer. “He make this for ya?”</p><p>Julian hadn’t even considered that. But he had to have, right? “I suppose so. Quite nice, isn’t it?”</p><p>“Yeh. Maybe I’ll try one. That collar looks a sight more comfortable than the normal ones on these penguin suits.”</p><p>They left together, Miles tagging along for the long walk to Garak’s quarters. It was a mostly silent trip, but Julian appreciated the support.</p><p>“Bugger! I forgot the blue makeup.”</p><p>Miles gave him a sideways look.</p><p>“Oh, um, it’s a Cardassian thing. I guess it’s too late now.”</p><p>“Well, you know, why don’t you save it? Make it a surprise for next time or somethin.”</p><p>“An excellent idea, Chief.”</p><p>“How do you feel about this, anyway? I thought you’d be all jumpy and nervous, but you look pretty calm.”</p><p>Wow, he was right. Everything had moved so fast that he hadn’t even found time to <em> be </em> nervous. He wondered if Garak had done that on purpose.</p><p>Reflecting back on the evening, Julian answered. “To be honest, I feel a little bit like Cinderella.” He really did feel like he was in some sort of fairy tale: a formal invitation, fancy costume, a small quest around the station, gifts from friends, an escort.</p><p>Miles grimaced. “That doesn’t make me one’a those little mice, does it?”</p><p>They stepped off the turbolift. “Maybe. Is there a grumpy one?”</p><p>“That’s Snow White and the Seven Dwarves.”</p><p>“Ah.” </p><p>And then they arrived.</p><p>Miles ran his hands up and down his hips, like he was rubbing sweat off his palms. Judging by the ruddy color in his cheeks, that was a very likely possibility. “Well, good luck to ya.” He put a hand out, giving the doctor a brisk shake. “Let me know if it goes well. Just, ah, no details, ‘kay?”</p><p>Julian reached over and gave him a one armed hug. “Thanks, Miles.”</p><p>He waited for the Irishman to turn the corner before buzzing the panel at the door, which opened almost immediately.</p><p>The room inside was darker than even the original Terok Nor standard settings. But off to one side, a flicker danced across the walls of the next room. Candles.</p><p>Taking a deep breath, he stepped in.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>And then they lived happily ever after. Or not.<br/>I'm in the middle of nearly 2 dozen works in progress, so I'm stopping here on this one.<br/>But if you'd like to pick up where I left off, let me know!</p></blockquote></div></div>
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